


used to think love would be burning red

by nikkiRA



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25140871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkiRA/pseuds/nikkiRA
Summary: on nightmares, and trauma, and the ever shifting colours of love, and the all consuming fear that is your partner asking if you should get a pet.“It looks high maintenance.”“So do you, and you don’t see me complaining. Wait, shit, look at him --” And before Goro can protest that he does see Akira complaining on a regular fucking basis, Akira’s phone is shoved into his face once more, and he looks down to see a very mangy looking cat with only one eye. “We need to get him.”
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 23
Kudos: 245





	used to think love would be burning red

**Author's Note:**

> but it's golden  
> \- daylight, taylor swift, i won't apologize

He tries to be quiet as he crawls into bed, but Akira stirs anyway, yawning and stretching dramatically before turning to curl into Goro’s side. 

“What time s’it?” He mutters sleepily. 

“I’m not sure,” he lies. It’s nearing two in the morning, truthfully, but Akira doesn’t need to know that. 

“Liar,” Akira says, voice sleepy but amused. “I told you to stop coming to bed so late.”

“I had things to do.”

“There’s always things to do.” Akira’s hand snakes up Goro’s shirt as he throws one of his legs over Goro’s. It had taken a long time to get used to sleeping like this, with Akira clinging to him like a koala, but now, to his eternal annoyance, he found it hard to fall asleep when it was just him. He loops his arm around Akira’s shoulders and shifts him down a bit, so he is situated more on Goro’s shoulder than buried in his neck. 

“Yes, that’s why I stay up late to do them.”

Akira grumbles, but within a few moments he is asleep again. The side light is still on; Goro levels a severe glare at it, as if the force of his gaze would be able to convince it to turn off. But it remains stubbornly on, and Goro admits defeat, turning his face into Akira’s hair and trying to block out the light. 

It was never supposed to be like this. 

* * *

When he was seven, he found a sparrow with a crushed wing on the side of the road. He’d taken it home and showed his mom, asked if it would ever be able to fly again. She had smoothed his hair out of his eyes and smiled, and even though the bags under her eyes were worse than usual and she had a nasty bruise forming on her cheek, she had helped him bandage the wing. For almost two weeks he tried to do his best for the little bird, until the day he woke up and found his mother on the bathroom floor, blood seeping from her wrists. 

He isn’t sure what happened to that bird, after that. 

* * *

They’re eating breakfast the next morning, and he is scrolling through his phone, when Akira says, “I think we should get a pet.”

Goro doesn’t look up from the news. “We have a pet.”

Akira chuckles. “You’re lucky he’s not here to hear you say that. Besides, Morgana stays with Haru most of the time now.”

“And who’s fault is that?” He asks, taking a sip of his coffee. Akira slides his foot up Goro’s leg. 

“You were the one giving me a blow job in the kitchen.”

“It was  _ your  _ idea,” Goro shoots back. 

Akira, infuriatingly, does not respond to this. Instead he just says, “A cat would be nice, but I’d be willing to get a rabbit, or something. Maybe a ferret?”

“How about a fish,” he says blandly. Akira makes a face.

“Fish are boring. Look at this thing.” And he shoves his phone right beneath Goro’s nose. When his eyes adjust, he finds himself looking at -- 

“What the fuck is that?”

Akira takes his phone back. “It’s called a sugar glider.”

“It looks high maintenance.”

“So do you, and you don’t see me complaining. Wait, shit, look at him --” And before Goro can protest that he  _ does  _ see Akira complaining on a regular fucking basis, Akira’s phone is shoved into his face once more, and he looks down to see a very mangy looking cat with only one eye. “We need to get him.”

“Do you know how offended Morgana will be if you bring home another cat?”

“He’s never even here, we just discussed this. Are you going to finish your bacon?” And then, without waiting for an answer, he reaches over and steals it off of Goro’s plate. “Would you think about it, at least?”

Goro sighs. “I suppose.” Akira finishes the bacon and then stands up, planting a quick kiss on the top of Goro’s head. 

“I love you,” Akira says. Goro takes a bite of his eggs so he has an excuse not to speak, but Akira bounds out of the room to get ready for work without waiting for a response. 

Goro looks down at his plate and thinks about the easy way Akira hands out his love. He thinks about waking up each morning and feeling relieved that tonight wasn’t the night when Akira decided to leave. He thinks about getting a pet. Something that was  _ theirs.  _ Something a little more permanent than a second toothbrush or the fucking Phantom Thieves tapestry Akira had insisted they hang above their bed. Something that would make him harder to leave behind. 

He gets up to wash his plate. 

* * *

Akira keeps texting him pictures of weird exotic pets throughout the day. At lunch time Futaba joins him, sending him strange animal themed memes, and by the time Goro’s last class is over he has a message from Haru, too. 

_ Haru: Will you call me when you finish class, please? _

He does, throwing his bag over his shoulder as he maneuvers between students, but when someone picks up, it isn’t Haru. 

“Are you getting another cat?” Morgana’s shrill voice sounds even shriller through the phone, and Goro winces, holding the phone a few inches away from his ear. “How could you?”

He sighs. “We’re not getting a cat,” he says, putting the phone back to his ear. “Do not shout at me. And how are you talking on the phone?”

“Akira said you were!”

“Akira says a lot of things,” he replies, taking a shortcut through the student center to get to where his bike is locked up and not quite willing to acknowledge the fact that he is 21 years old and on the phone with a  _ cat.  _ “He mentioned he wanted a pet, that’s all. He’ll move on to something else. Besides, you’re almost always with Haru.”

“ _ And whose fault is that,”  _ Morgana hisses. Goro reaches his bike and crouches down to unlock it. 

“Are we done? I can’t talk while I’m cycling, you know.”

“I can’t believe you guys are replacing me.” Morgana’s voice is dejected; Goro feels exactly zero sympathy for him. 

“Goodbye, Mona,” he says, not waiting for a response.

* * *

Sometimes he has nightmares about the interrogation room. They’re so vivid that he doesn’t even realize until he’s woken up that it isn’t real, and even then the after effects linger. The feeling of the gun in his hand, the chill of the dark underground room -- and Akira, slumped over the table, lifeless and empty. Goro watches the blood seep from his head, a brighter shade of red than he’s ever seen. It spreads across the table and drips onto the floor. Goro wonders if there’s enough of it to reach him where he stands. 

And then he wakes up. He is thankful that his nightmares are quiet, that he doesn’t jolt up or scream or thrash around. That he doesn’t wake Akira. He doesn’t want Akira to ask him what’s wrong, what he’s dreaming about. This interrogation room nightmare is not one he is entitled to have. He doesn’t get to be haunted by it, because he  _ did  _ it. And it doesn’t matter that he loves Akira and it definitely doesn’t matter that he loved him  _ then,  _ too, and no matter how many times Akira has told him he forgives him, or that he understands, or that he knows what it’s like to be manipulated by the adults around you, it doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter that Goro went home that night and took a 45 minute shower so he could pretend he wasn’t crying and it doesn’t matter that he threw up everything in his stomach and it doesn’t matter that he thought about putting the gun to his forehead, too, because he  _ still did it,  _ and he doesn’t get to be haunted by it. It is not his nightmare to have. It is his penance, so he will accept it. 

He always reaches out for Akira’s hand, after. He doesn’t wake him up, but he locates his pulse, wraps his fingers around Akira’s wrist so he can feel his heart beating beneath his skin, a reminder that he is alive, and he is here. 

* * *

Fifteen minutes before Akira is done work, Goro gets a text. 

_ Akira: What about a hedgehog? _

_ Goro: No. _

_ Akira: >:( _

_ Akira: why do you hate me _

_ Goro: Would you like an itemized list? _

_ Akira: tough words for someone who fell asleep with his head buried in my chest  _

Goro chooses to preserve what little dignity he has left and does not answer this. 

Akira gets home about an hour later, talking to someone on the phone. Goro mostly ignores him, continuing to research for his paper, but Akira pulls the chair out from the desk and then climbs into Goro’s lap, hooking his chin over Goro’s shoulder as he continues to talk. 

“For someone who continues to insist that he’s ‘a symbol of humanity’s hope’ and definitely not a cat, you seem to be very offended that we’re considering getting a cat.”

Ah, Morgana again. Goro moves Akira’s head so he can see his laptop screen again and says in the direction of the phone, “We’re not getting a cat.”

Akira continues to talk, and Goro does his best to tune him out and continue to read the research paper he had found online. One of his hands snakes up Akira’s shirt to rub his back absentmindedly, and by the time Akira hangs up the phone he’s decided that this poorly written article actually isn’t going to be of much help to him, after all. 

Akira throws his phone in the direction of the couch and then buries his head in Goro’s shoulder, sighing heavily. He presses a kiss to the side of Akira’s head, and Akira says, “What about a snake?”

Goro pushes him off his lap.

* * *

Ann says, “I think a pet might be a good thing, actually.”

He gives her an impassive look. “And why would you say that?”

She takes another bite of her food before she answers. “It would be something that belonged to the two of you. And maybe then you’ll stop being so afraid that he’s going to leave.”

Goro chokes a bit; Ann watches him cough with no real concern. “I am not afraid --” he starts when he can speak again, but Ann cuts him off. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be tough with me,” she says with a laugh. “You’d think after three years you’d know that.”

“I --” he takes a breath and tries to regain control of the conversation. “You cannot just make such a ridiculous claim with no proof.”

“Oh, you want proof?” Ann says, in a tone of voice that says that Goro is going to regret ever agreeing to weekly lunch dates with her. “Every time another person who’s not in our circle of friends even  _ looks  _ at Akira you give them such a fierce glare it’s a wonder they don’t burst into flames. You’re constantly leaving marks all over him. You are incredibly hostile to any new friends he makes. And also this year on your birthday, when you got really, super drunk? You told me all about it.”

He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee. “This is why I don’t like drinking,” he says. Ann just shrugs. 

“Blame Ryuji.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he says. She rests her chin on her hand and looks at him. 

“You don’t have to be afraid, you know,” she says, completely seriously. “He’s crazy about you.”

He doesn’t answer this, just takes another sip of his coffee, and Ann sighs, recognizing that he’s shutting down, and quickly changes the subject. 

He’s not going to explain to Ann that he was never supposed to have this. The only plan for his life he had ever had was getting revenge on Shido, and whether he lived or died after that was inconsequential, as long as he accomplished that. In the end, he hadn’t even been the one to take his father down; the only thing he had ever wanted he’d failed. He’d always been a failure, from the very beginning. He couldn’t save his mother. He couldn’t make his father pay. He couldn’t take care of the Phantom Thieves. He couldn’t even beat his cognitive self. If it hadn’t been for some madman therapist with a God complex, he wouldn’t even be here. 

But Akira has never failed. For all the talk about being bound by fate, about being two sides of the same coin, sometimes it feels like Akira is on the other side of a very large chasm, labelled  _ competency  _ or  _ skill  _ or just  _ the ability to make friends and gain people’s trust.  _ For all of Goro’s skills, he has never been Akira. It’s why he lost, all those years ago. It’s why he’ll keep losing. And even if Akira is extending his hand across the chasm to reach Goro, eventually -- 

It was never supposed to be like this. He was never supposed to have this. Never supposed to have Ann, cheerily keeping up a conversation about her latest shoot, or Futaba, who kept texting him photoshopped pictures of snakes with arms. Not Haru, who had found it in her heart to forgive him for killing her father (he still doesn’t regret it, but he’s not going to tell her that), or Makoto, or Morgana or Yoshizawa. He was never supposed to have Yusuke, who had accepted him the easiest, or Ryuji, who still made the effort, every time, to invite Goro out for drinks with the guys. 

And he was definitely never supposed to have Akira. If things had gone according to Goro’s plan Akira would be dead, now, and Goro probably would have been, too, and eventually Akira is going to realize that there are plenty of people on his side of the rift that haven’t held a gun to his head, and he’s going to leave. 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I’m willing to bet that it’s wrong.”

He gives her his fakest television smile. “I was just thinking how much nicer you look wearing your hair like that.”

She gives him her model smile. “Liar,” she says lightly. “Well, I do look better like this, but I know that’s not what you were thinking about. Wipe that smile off your face, Detective Prince.”

He laughs. “You first,” he fires back, and Ann laughs and kicks him lightly under the table. 

* * *

Akira is in the middle of cooking when Goro gets home, some new dish he’d been meaning to try out. Goro walks by him and runs a hand down his back in hello, putting his briefcase down in the bedroom. He hops into the shower, and by the time he gets out and dried off and dressed, dinner is ready. 

“I experimented a bit with the spices so if it’s horrible you don’t have to eat it.”

Goro sits across from him and examines his plate. “I’m sure it’s fine,” he says, and after an experimental bite he confirms that it’s  _ more  _ than fine; it’s excellent. 

“You flatter me,” Akira says with a shark like grin, sliding his foot up Goro’s leg. 

“I don’t believe in flattery,” he says, but he takes another big bite, and Akira’s smiles like he knows better. 

* * *

The gun is heavy in his hand; Akira’s eyes are blank. He watches as Akechi puts the silencer on, watches as the gun is pressed into his forehead. His eyes aren’t grey now; they are red, red, red.

Akechi says, “I love you,” and his mouth fills with blood. 

He pulls the trigger. 

He wakes up with a gasp. He curls his shaking hands into fists and takes a breath -- 

“Goro?” 

He looks up; Akira is in the doorway, a glass of water in his hand and a worried look on his face. Goro feels something a lot like panic thrum through him, and he waves his hand, tries to wave it off. 

“It’s fine. I was just --”

“I know what a nightmare looks like,” Akira says, and of course he does, because Akira has nightmares, too, and Goro is the one who holds him through it, every time, so of course, of course --

Akira crosses to the bed, puts the water on the side table and sits next to Goro, face a perfect picture of concern. Goro can still feel a small, dark part of him rear up in anger at Akira’s perfect face, and that only makes his shame grow. 

“You don’t have to worry about it, Akira. It’s over, and I certainly don’t need comforting.”

Akira’s mask of concern drops for a look Goro is more acquainted with: annoyance. He lies down beside Goro and pulls him down, sighing heavily. “You’re really annoying. Why won’t you tell me?”

Goro rolls over and shoves his head into Akira’s shoulder. “Everyone has nightmares,” he mutters. Akira turns over and runs his hand up Goro’s back. 

“I know,” he says softly. “Which is why I wish you’d tell me.”

“It’s not…” he lifts his head, rubs at his eye; Akira runs a finger down his jawline. “It’s not your problem.”

“You having nightmares is actually the definition of my problem,” Akira says. “You don’t have to suffer alone. You can  _ talk  _ to me.”

“You won’t want to hear it.”

Akira doesn’t say anything; he just continues to look at Goro with that fucking look of his. Goro is very well acquainted with that stare. Akira has an eerie, irritating ability to get people to spill their secrets with barely any prompting. It’s one of the things Goro hates the most about him. 

“It’s the interrogation room,” he says. “If you must know.”

Akira’s hand settles lightly on Goro’s thigh, and he resists the urge to push it off. “What about the interrogation room?”

“What do you  _ think,”  _ he says viciously. Akira doesn’t react to his outburst, other than to drag his fingertips lightly up and down Goro’s leg. 

“Okay,” he says calmly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Goro turns his head, gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re asking why I didn’t tell you that I was having nightmares about shooting you in the head.”

“Yes,” Akira says, completely seriously, as if this wasn’t a completely ridiculous conversation. Goro huffs. 

“Do you even hear yourself? I tried to kill you, Akira, I don’t get to have nightmares about that.”

“You get to have nightmares about whatever you have nightmares about,” Akira says. Goro hates how simply he says it, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. He hates how much he wants to believe it. 

“What is wrong with you?” He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand. “I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t,” Akira says, and Goro  _ hates  _ him. 

“But I would have,” he says, gripping the front of Akira’s shirt and resisting the urge to shake him. “If you weren’t  _ you,  _ I would have.”

“If I weren’t me, you wouldn’t have tried to kill me in the first place.” And then Akira  _ grins  _ at him, his Joker grin, still a part of him after all this time, and Goro  _ loves  _ him. He presses a hand to his face, annoyed at how it shakes. 

After a moment Akira says, "For what it's worth... when I dream about it, it's about the cops, and the drugs, and the beatings. It's not about you. What you saw in that room -- only you saw it. So if you want to know why I forgive you, it's because you didn't kill me, and I didn't even see you try. I was by myself, wondering how long your monologue was taking." Goro levels a glare at him, and Akira shrugs. "You're allowed to have nightmares about it. And you don't have to hide it. Since when have you ever been self-sacrificing?" He says this as a joke, tone light, but Goro knows the answer is _almost always, when it comes to you._

He sits up again, running a hand through his hair and pleased to note that it’s stopped shaking, that Akira had helped him calm down. “You are unbelievable,” he says. Akira sits up and curls around his back.

“I’m not the one sitting on three years of trauma for no real reason.”

“I had a reason,” Goro objects. 

“A shitty reason.”

“The quality of my reason has no bearing on whether it exists.”

Akira laughs softly, breath hitting the nape of Goro’s neck. They sit like that for a bit, until finally Goro says, “I don’t want a cat. But I would… consider. A rabbit. Maybe.”

Akira flops back down and grins up at him; the light from the side table casts a hazy, golden glow around him, which is just a little much, in Goro’s opinion. He leans over and turns off the light, but he finds Akira’s lips easily in the darkness anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @felixfraldaddy


End file.
